


Caught and Courted

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 02:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19163830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: After a stolen night in his childhood bedroom, Kevin Mask tries to hide Warsman from his father.





	Caught and Courted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Soutenkyuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soutenkyuu/gifts).



“I am cold. Come closer.”

Warsman stretched out a lazy arm. The sheets tangled about his lower limbs, sliding down his waist to expose his half-deflated member to an obscene amount, and his blond hair was mussed and slicked with sweat against his pillows. A moonbeam caught off his black helmet, which lay underneath a chair and still rolled with each creak of the floorboards. He noted his shorts on the windowsill. The boots were on the wardrobe and by the bedroom door.

He lay on his side, while Kevin darted about the large space. It was a far cry from their tiny apartments in Japan, or the cramped stone buildings and dormitory spaces in Russia, and every inch of décor exuded a sense of wealth and luxury . . . _designer items, state-of-the-art technology, family heirlooms, antiques . . ._ Warsman hummed. The room was still scented with sweat and sex, while incense drifted by from the bedside table. Kevin continued to snatch at stray items of clothing, as he raced naked over the messy carpet.

It was a remarkable sight. Kevin bore perfectly taut and proportioned muscles, while long locks of bright blond hair cascaded down his back, and the tuft of his beard – always messy in appearance, but surprisingly soft and well-kept – added age to his perfect features. Warsman watched as Kevin snatched at an old yellow t-shirt. The way he lifted his arms high, exposing washboard abdominal muscles and the line of a happy trail to a large member . . .

“I am still cold,” said Warsman.  

Kevin stood with hands on his hips. It should have looked ridiculous to stand clad only in a skin-tight t-shirt, with his entire lower half exposed, but somehow it only looked more erotic and Warsman rolled onto his back with a low moan. He kicked off the sheets and spread his legs, before arching his back and throwing his arms high over his head. Kevin blushed. A smirk would have crossed Warsman’s features, were his mask still attached, but instead he chuckled and attempted a wink with his organic eye. Kevin smiled and shook his head.

“You’re not cold,” said Kevin.

“I need you to come warm me, my love.”

“Your body temperature is controlled and regulated by internal cybernetics.” Kevin crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, we don’t have _time_ for a round two. If my father catches you in my bed, there’ll be hell to pay! I came back to London to reconcile with him. How will it look if his best friend followed me back and fucked me in my childhood bedroom?”

“I am sure it will look like you have a very dedicated and loyal lover, who is willing to follow you across the entire globe just to tend to your needs, and I am sure that Robin must suspect on some level. You carried my helmet everywhere with you after the Olympics.”

“If he knew on _any_ level, he’d disown me!”

“Do not worry.” Warsman patted the mattress. “I need you here, Kevin. How can I be warm when the light of my life has been extinguished? The further away you are, the more in the dark I become. You taught me how to love when I thought all love was lost, and you taught me how to hope when all hope was gone . . . join me here, please?”

A large pillow was tossed at him. Warsman chuckled and cuddled it to his chest, while he continued to watch Kevin with blown pupils and a racing heart, and Kevin – flushed red and muttering incoherent complaints – continued to search for various items. A few visible love-bites marked the backs of his thighs and buttocks, places where Kevin could not complain for the simple fact that they could not be seen, and a few nail marks raked down his back, as a mark of their intimacy and pleasure. Kevin marched to the bed. He huffed out:

“Where are my pants?”

Warsman felt a smile break across his face, even if it were impossible without his mask, and – for the first time – he was grateful for being so exposed . . . vulnerable . . . as it led him hide his amusement, enough to see the feigned indignation back from Kevin. They locked eyes, while Kevin’s member twitched and his lips pulled at the corners. If he played his cards right, he could make Kevin break into laughter and finally fall back into bed. Warsman replied:

“I do not know what you mean.”

“My underpants,” said Kevin. “Where did you throw them?”

He hummed again and reached underneath the pillow . . . _hot hands snatching and pulling at all clothes, shoved hard onto the bed, a slight concussion as his head hit the top of the childhood bunk bed, laughter and apologises, Kevin astride him and with hair thrown backwards . . ._ Warsman pulled out a pair of black briefs. He tossed them to Kevin, who caught them with one hand and awkwardly pulled them on with a low huff of breath. Warsman continued to watch until Kevin was fully dressed and asked:

“Are you sure we cannot go for a round two?”

“No, Daddy wanted to throw a family dinner so we could reconcile.” Kevin frowned. “I just need to find my mask first . . . he’s invited his sister, along with Aunt Laura, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s invited Grandfather Knight and Grandfather Paul. He insisted. I can’t say I’m not a little suspicious, but with it being a family affair -?”

“Perhaps he is simply excited that you shall be his guest of honour.”

“Perhaps he’s simply trying to _look_ good to the rest.”

_‘Perhaps he’s wondering why you’re late?’_

They froze. Warsman rolled onto his stomach. He quickly darted around for his mask and helmet, only for Kevin to race about the room and push them into his hands, and – as he quickly assembled them – the door cricked open a couple of inches. The shadow of Robin appeared on the bedroom door, darkening a poster of Ultraman. A throat cleared. Kevin finally wore his mask and flipped his hair over the collar of his coat, while Warsman awkwardly pulled on his shorts caught between the two bunks of the bunk-bed.

“I hope Warsman is also dressed?” Robin sighed. “I knew you wouldn’t come if I revealed Warsman was the guest of honour, but you _can’t_ hide the old chap from us forever! If you two are serious, he needs to meet the family and have a wee chat. Supper is in five minutes.”

“Ah, I – er – yes, Daddy. We’ll be there in five minutes, Daddy.”

“Good. Your grandfathers are already arguing . . .”

The door clicked closed, while Kevin collapsed to his knees. A heavy and long sigh escaped him, as he ran a hand over his mask as if wiping away sweat he couldn’t quite reach, and yet – despite the clear conflict of emotion – Warsman laughed. It seemed their worries were a moot concern: Robin did not mind their relationship. Kevin furrowed his brow and came to sit on the edge of the bed, where the mattress dipped and their hands sought for one another, until their fingers entwined and they both gave a gentle squeeze. Kevin whispered:

“What’re you laughing at now?”

Warsman quickly let go of the hand. He swung his legs around and awkwardly climbed off the bed, albeit this time avoiding striking his head on the bunk above, and continued to laugh even as he finished dressing and wiping himself down for a formal supper. Kevin raised an eyebrow, barely visible beneath the black mesh of the eye-slot of the mask. It took all of Warsman’s strength not to cry with laughter, as he replied with a teasing tone:

“I guess I am not the only one you call ‘Daddy’?”

Kevin threw a pillow hard at his face.

 


End file.
